Once upon a time, my oldest child ran away and hid. I was angry at the time because he disobeyed me, so I let him go. However, when it was time to leave my mom’s house, he was nowhere to be found. He didn’t answer his phone and didn’t come when I blew my horn.
Oh, I was furious. Then I worried. And when I finally spied him behind the building, I was mad all over again. I’m sad to say that rather than show compassion, I fussed. I fussed when I found him, I fussed in the car, and then I fussed at home.
Levi later confessed. He told me the reason he hid was because of my anger and he just wanted to be loved. His confession seemed earth shattering. The fact my boy ran away and hid hoping his actions would incite my love.
And as I recently considered this event, a new idea was birthed about an old story.
I thought of something I’d never thought of before…
Because circumstances were similar, I think of Eden and God’s first children. Disobedience would bring God’s anger, thus, Adam and Eve ran and hid. Oh, so familiar.
And though Father God already knew, He called out anyway, “Where are you?”
I always believed they hid because newfound knowledge of nakedness ushered in vulnerability. And of course, there was fear of consequences. I still believe that. I cannot help but wonder, though, if while hiding out in those bushes, a small part of them thought…
If we hide, if He can’t see us, perhaps He’ll worry. He’ll have to come find us. Then, He’ll love us.
I realize this is a fanciful thought and total surmising, but this is where my mind landed in comparing both events. That maybe subconsciously, childishly, Adam and Eve felt hiding would incite God’s love. And to go a step further, don’t we do this today? Even now?
Instead of hiding out in bushes, though, we hide in our grown-up costumes. And hidden in a covering of our own choosing, we hope for not just love, but acceptance and admiration. The immature part of our minds thinking, “If I am this way, I’ll be loved.”
Oh yes, with our most vulnerable parts unseen, we feel shielded. Protected. And in our armor, we think we’ll receive the love we so crave because we present only what’s lovable. I know this to be true because this is the story of my life. It’s what I did. But thanks be to God, He knew what I was doing even when I didn’t. Even as recent as last year. Thus, He called out to me…
“Where are you?”
And these past few months, He helped me to identify my hiding place.
It’s no coincidence I had all these thoughts yesterday because see, it was International Women’s Day. A day for celebrating women’s accomplishments and successes. I must confess, in contemplating the significance of such a day, women who emulate Wonder Woman are who first come to mind.
Thus, I have to smile because for five years now, I’ve been planning an event centered on this superhero. And this little toy sits in my drawer so I can see her whenever I grab a sticky or stapler. She serves as a reminder of the event. Today, though, I comprehend truth in answering God’s inquiry.
“Where am I?”
Well, I’ve been hiding out in my costume of her. For it seems I’ve been trying to be this woman, she who is not real, for thirty years now. She’s just a figment of my imagination. A woman crafted through pieces of all the women I ever admired through the years…
There’s a piece of Sarah and a scrap of Carmen. Etc. Etc. She’s bold and courageous. She’s a leader and shares opinions. Oh, so fun and full of laughs. She’s smart and wise and witty and beautiful and strong and kind and relevant and every other good thing I’ve seen in various women. Only, I’ve merged all their attributes into this one ideal. I wanted to be she who is made up of many.
An impossible creation.
The result? In putting on pieces of others, I’ve discarded scraps of me along the way. At nineteen, I began hiding the best of me in favor of what I perceived as better in other women. All these years, shoving and packing me away in corners and closets till I was covered up by someone else entirely. The real me, hidden by a mere costume.
It was my armor.
The goal no different than that of an adolescent boy hiding out behind a building. I hid out in my idea of Wonder Woman, hoping to incite the love of others.
Because the women I knew like her were so incredibly loved.
Yep, this Spring marks five years. That’s when an idea for a ladies event centered on Wonder Woman came to mind. And timing is not coincidental. See, Springtime is the anniversary of old hurts. It’s when my heart was broken the very first time. I share this not to be pitied, but because it explains my actions. Why I subconsciously did what I did.
See, I was left behind by the one who should have loved me most. Forgotten and not missed. My heart assured me it was because of my demeanor. That my quiet and shy ways made me forgettable. So, I lived to counter that. My mind crafted an ideal woman and she’s who I strove to be.
Because the self-made woman is not only unforgettable, she is so lovable.
But God came looking. And though He already knew, He cried out, “Where are you?” Seems I was hiding out behind the persona of this strong woman I so admired.
But today I know truth. I’m not Wonder Woman. I’m me…
I’m quiet and shy and reserved and unobtrusive. This is how God made me. More, He reminded me of all the good things I ever possessed. Everything I’d inadvertently hid away. Through Christmas and birthday gifts, I remembered painting. And through rearrangement of rooms, I found me inside an old green box.
It belonged to my grandparents back in the day. When I was young, it enclosed a five gallon bucket used for pig slop. What wasn’t eaten was scraped inside. I found this treasure in the home place basement, and made it my own years ago. Instead of left-overs, though, I filled it with sentimental items. And last month, I opened it…
My old sketches and handmade cards were hidden amongst photos and dreams. A handwritten prayer, a card from a dear friend. Indeed, I found scraps of me in a box that once housed scraps for pigs. It was the best of me and God helped me find it. To unpack it. To reclaim what’s mine by right.
Everything good He ever gave me.
A prodigal story come to life.
After he had spent everything, there was a severe famine in that whole country, and he began to be in need. So he went and hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed pigs. He longed to fill his stomach with the pods that the pigs were eating, but no one gave him anything. “When he came to his senses, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired servants have food to spare, and here I am starving to death! I will set out and go back to my father…. So he got up and went to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him. Portions of Luke 15
I heard a country song this morning called “Doin this.” Basically, it’s about a singer fortunate enough to do what he loves for a living. And the gist of it is, that even if he wasn’t successful doing it, he’d still be doing it. And that’s how I feel about writing…
Sharing how God moves in my life fills me in a way that nothing else does. And not only do I not make money doing it, I pay to do so. It costs me money to have this blog. So that song resonated. No doubt, I’d still be doing this for God has given me the desire to share.
He’s also filled me with passion for that ladies’ event called Wonder Woman. Sometimes passion blazes bright while other times, it simmers on the back burner. Nonetheless, it’s still there, jolted to life when something brings it back to the forefront. It just happened when I saw a picture of her in the bathroom stall at Seaworld.
And though it’s five years in the making, I know it’ll happen one day. I’ve joked with my mother-in-law that when the above shirt fits me (it’s a tad snug), I’ll fit the event. And I have hope I’m getting there. Because ultimately, Wonder Woman is about discovering the wonder of who you are underneath it all…
When you come out from under all your cover and when you have the courage to stop hiding behind who you think you should be. Simply because you love yourself. Just as He made you to be.
Like those first days in the garden. God’s first children were naked and unashamed.
Yes, that’s what Wonder Woman has come to mean. It’s accepting how God crafted me. It’s about tapping into God-given gifts (not another woman’s) because therein lies my strength. My superpower. It’s using what’s inherent to me, what He knit into my core, my substance. He’s reminding me of all this…
But oh, it’s taken years to get here. Before hosting it, though, I have to see it. To live it. And I think I’m nearly there. Because I’m learning to love me as me, not her.
And that makes me a real superhero.
I just saw this picture on Facebook and through it, I’m reminded it’s not just about me. It never is. No, Wonder Woman is about them, too. My kids. And like any superhero who has a weakness, indeed, my kryptonite would be them.
Fear for their safety has at times brought me to my knees. Honestly, left unattended, it’s crippled me. And when they bicker, oh, I can go dark. And loud in a bad way. But they can also bring out the good in me. Like the compassion and love they kindle in my heart.
And you know, God’s word describes them as arrows. As their mom, I have power to bring out the best in my kids before shooting them into the world. See, they house so much potential. My job is to help them uncover their God-given strengths. I need to help them unpack their gifting but also, to love how God gifted them.
Oh, that they would love their gifts.
And own them…
Use them.
Yes, may I teach my children to not hide how God crafted them under a lofty ideal of what’s not real. Or what looks better to them. May they not hide their authentic selves behind what’s false. And may I love them so much, as is, that they never feel the need to.
Oh, that they’d comprehend their value. And discover the wonder of their unique makeup. Because hopefully, if they do, just maybe they’ll love themselves as much as I do. Or better yet, as much as God does. And that’s it right there…
God’s love.
The most powerful force.
The heart of Wonder Woman is that I love me like He does. As is. Because only then, can I teach my children how to do the same. I tell you, that would be the best superhero power to possess.
The good news is, I really think I’m getting there.
I will praise you for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Psalm 139:14
painter's daughter (a work in progress) 